Time Makes Fools Of Us All
by Steampunkmagic
Summary: When Hydra sends one of its best agents, Angie Martinelli, back in time to eliminate Peggy Carter things don't exactly go as planned.
1. Prologue

I love these two and I've had this idea in my head for awhile... so here we go!

(I already started posting this on AO3, so the first few chapters will be up all at once then I'll update at the same time)

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

"Do you understand your mission, Agent Martinelli?" Repeated the man in the expensive black suit, looking down at her coldly.

Angie simply stared back at him not bothering to respond. The doctors hurried around her adhering electrodes to her temples, wrists, and the insides of her arms, with a kind of manic frenzy. She assumed they were scared of the man in the suit, worried he might decided to execute the lot of them on a whim if they appeared idle.

Or maybe they were just afraid of her.

A needle jabbed in at the base of her skull causing Angie to gasp involuntarily. Bright flares of pain shot across her nerve system, leaving the ends of her fingers tingling unpleasantly and her chest tight. It felt like being stabbed with an ice pick. Sure, she had endured worse over the course of her career, but that really didn't make it any easier to endure.

"Fuck." She bit out, glaring at the only nurse she could see without moving her head. Angie had been warn repeatedly not to move during this procedure or she might simply die in the chair.

"This better work." Angie met the man in the suit's cool gaze evenly. "How exactly do we know this isn't just going to fry my brain?" The corners of her lips turned up into a wry grin, which he didn't seem to know what to do with.

"We don't." Was The Suit's only response.

"It will work." Assured Dr. Ross confidently from behind her, he had a Jersey accent that clearly wished it was Manhattan. "One flick on the switch, Agent Martinelli and it's hello 1946 for you."

"Fantastic." Angie muttered dryly, her eyes moving past The Suit to the large skull-octopus insignia on the wall behind him. The dead eyes bored back into hers. "Just fantastic."

They laid her chair back carefully and, for the first time since this process began, Angie could properly see the strange instrument on the table beside her. A triangular base of alloyed metal holding up a series of spinning dials, some of which flickered with blue lights, ran a tangle of wires to the electrodes attached to her body. Angie seriously doubted it was earthly in origin. The thought sent a chill down her spine.

The nurses quickly stationed themselves at their various computers and monitors that filled the bleak underground lab. It was so quiet Angie could hear her own heart beating in her chest, and she prayed she was the only one that could. The first rule was always: _never let them see your fear_. Your fear was a weapon they could turn against you.

Moving up to the table, Dr. Ross made a show of putting on a pair of thick gloves designed especially for this moment. He began turning the first dial on the device, counting off the numbers to the other doctor as he did so. She could hear the scratching of the pin on the paper as the other man - Angie never did bother to catch his name - wrote everything down excitedly. Dr. Ross repeated the process on the next two dials then stopped, his fingers hesitating above the metallic knobs.

The doctor leaned over Angie, his face alight with a disturbing sort of glee. "I imagine this is going to hurt." He said.

Angie's gaze focused in on the red Hydra pin on his white coat, not wanting to look at this face. She continued to stare unblinkingly at those dark skull eyes as Dr. Ross turned the last dial on the machine.

"Hail Hydra!" Was the last thing she heard as the world dissolved into white light. And for some reason it made her want to laugh.

The world compressed and stretched and bent around her. Angie Martinelli felt the weight of the entire universe, and was part of it, for half a second before she opened her eyes again. She had not moved an inch, but the world she was seeing now was completely different from the one Angie had been in seconds ago.

She was standing in an overgrown vacant lot, littered with broken bottles and candy wrappers. Beyond it was a city she could almost recognize as her own beloved NYC. It worked! She took in a gasping breath of different tasting air. Angie couldn't believe it, the crazy ass thing actually worked.

This was New York City 1946 , and Agent Angie Martinelli had only one mission: kill Peggy Carter.


	2. Chapter 1: Reflections

**_Ch.1_**

 ** _-Reflections-_**

Peggy was sore all over - and that definitely included her current emotional state. She lay back on her small twin bed not even bothering to undress and closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. Bruises were already beginning to form along her ribcage, turning her normally cream skin a murky purple-blue. Honestly, Peggy was just thankful the Leviathan agents had missed her face. Women who worked for the phone company were not supposed to get shiners, they tended to be difficult to explain. 

The pain was the least of Peggy's problems, however, bruises and scrapes were an everyday occurrence in the Army, she would certainly know. No her problem was the idiots she worked with. They thought she was only there to make coffee and brighten up the décor, while she was the only one actually out there doing anything! God she'd love to see Thompson's face if he ever figured it out. Though his brain would probably explode. 

A rap of knuckles on her door broke into Peggy's fuming and made her open her eyes. 

"Hey, English, you in there?" Came her new friend Angie's voice from out in the hall. 

Angie was the latest bright young thing to grace the hallowed halls of their odd little male-free hotel. She had moved into the room next door a week ago, with a suspiciously new looking suitcase and a set of suspiciously new looking clothes. Either that or she'd grown up on a military base where cleanliness was indeed next to godliness. 

Peggy's natural wariness was reassured though the second the girl opened her mouth. 

"Gosh I've always dreamed of coming to the city!" Angie had gushed, her eyes as big and wide as her smile. "I've never been more than ten miles from home before." 

For Peggy it all made sense then. New big city life meant new big city clothes - it was a standard female practice. The girl had probably saved her every last dime to do it too. Peggy had done the same thing when she got her final check from the Army. She needed to find a way to make herself fit in with the world without a uniform again. It was no small task either after everything she had seen, and everything she had lost. 

Sitting up, Peggy swung her legs off the bed and carefully made her way over to the door. She could not go too quickly or she would wind up wheezing like an old smoker. After checking her face in the mirror, Peggy clicked open the lock and pulled the door aside to reveal Angie's bright smile. 

"Did you need something, Angie?" Peggy leaned lightly against the doorframe, and wondered why exactly she was so terrible at normal conversation. 

Angie, however, did not seem deterred by her formal manner, for whatever reason she had decided to attach herself to Peggy out of all of the other girls at the Griffith. 

"No, but I thought you might." Angie revealed a half empty bottle of peach schnapps from behind her back and held it up shaking the contents in a tantalizing way. 

Peggy couldn't help grinning at her mischievous expression. The other woman's pretty face was alight with all the kinds of mischief that would get them in trouble in this tightly run facility. 

"How did you know?" Peggy chuckled, a slightly teasing lilt to her voice. She stepped back to let her inside. 

"Call it woman's intuition." Angie said slipping past her breezily. 

She flitted over to the stereo on Peggy's dresser and turned the dial so that the hum of soft jazz filled the room. To Peggy it seemed like she was glowing under the orange incandescent lights, with her pink petal dress and already slightly tipsy demeanor. 

"You won't believe what I heard Sarah did today." Angie trilled dropping onto her bed with a soft thump. 

"I imagine it involves a man." Peggy said over her shoulder as she got two tumblers out from a cabinet. 

Angie let out an over exaggerated hum of agreement, scrunching up her nose. "Like I'm one to talk and all, but juggling two boyfriends while banging your boss on the side … geez as if life wasn't stressful enough!" 

Peggy turned to face her, frowning at the odd turn of phrase. "Banging? Good lord, is that what they're calling it now?" As Angie put it, she wasn't one to talk, but even she found that a bit crass. 

Something odd flickered in Angie's expression, then she laughed before Peggy could identify it. "I know right? That's what all the boys upstate have been saying. That and adding 'cool' and 'doll face' to every sentence like they think they're real Boss Men." 

Peggy told herself she needed to stop trying to read into everything. The war was over and her job was at work. She had to keep it that way or she would find herself looking for conspiracies in the wallpaper. Not that Peggy would ever drop her guard completely, but she could relax tonight at least. 

Plus the schnapps would unquestionably help ease the ache of her ribs. 

They sat side by side on the bed, swilling the cheap liquor and listening to the big band crackling through the radio speaker. It was pleasant. Peggy felt a calm she hadn't known in ages wash over her, and she found herself leaning into the warmth of the woman next to her as she finished her second glass. 

Angie prattled cheerfully about her day of horrible auditions - she had dreams of being a film actress - and the silly comings and goings of the building. 

"So how was your day?" She asked while swaying to the melody of the piano. 

Peggy huffed in exasperation at the thought of it. 

"That bad huh?" 

She just made a face, taking another strong drink. The peach flavor left a funny aftertaste on her tongue. 

"What happened?" Angie's big storm blue eyes were filled with concern and natural curiosity. 

"I'm just as capable as a man." Peggy's internal frustrations boiled over before she could clamp them down again. "Yet sometimes I feel like I need to beat it into their thick heads just to get them to see it!" 

Understanding colored Angie's features for a moment, before she bumped Peggy's shoulder playfully with a wry grin. "Now don't go kill anyone at the phone company, English, because I haven't got enough cash to bail you out." 

Peggy smiled and rolled her eyes. Her anger was already leaching away - actually she was getting really sleepy. 

"I'll try not to." 

"Good." 

Angie hummed along with the radio and her eyelids began to droop. Everything was growing fuzzy and distant, even her ribs didn't hurt anymore. 

* * *

Peggy slumped gracefully backwards onto the mattress, her hair billowing out around her like a dark halo. Angie darted forward and caught the tumbler from her hand before it could spill. The smile was gone from her face as if it had never existed. Carefully she set the glasses on the end table beside the bed. 

The sedative took longer than usual to take effect. Peggy probably had some sort of natural resistance to it, in much the same way Angie, herself, could have drunk the whole bottle and the only thing she would have had to worry about was the alcohol. 

For a moment Angie simply sat there and watched the woman sleeping beside her. Peggy Carter was nothing like she had expected. That is, if she really had thought to expect anything at all. Angie was trained to disregard such trivial worries and do as ordered, no questions necessary. She had learned quickly as a child with Hydra you either fell in line or the line simply shot you and marched over your rotting corpse. 

Peggy's breast rose and fell slowly in deep sleep, her beautiful porcelain face was soft and unburdened. She seemed younger like this. 

Angie tore her gaze away, shaking herself mentally. If Agent Carter died now, with Howard Stark still Public Enemy Number One, then his name would never be cleared. And they would never found S.H.E.I.L.D., meaning Hydra's greatest adversary would simply never have existed. 

She could have killed her any number of ways over the past week, but Angie wanted to be sure first. She needed to be positive that there was no third party that would take over the moment Peggy was eliminated, leaving S.H.E.I.L.D. to be created anyway. That was the last thing Hydra needed after this much effort. So instead of merely shooting the woman, she'd followed, and watched, and worked to get close to her. 

Angie currently knew more about her than anyone at Peggy's office did. But she still was not _positive_. Though every night when she sent progress reports back to 2015 via the chip implanted in the base of her skull Angie could feel the pressure mounting, her bosses wanted this mission completed. 

Slipping a hand into the neckline of her dress, Angie pulled out the minuscule switchblade she kept tucked into her horribly uncomfortable old fashioned bra - seriously she wanted to set the thing on fire. Flipping out the sharp, silver blade, Angie leaned over and pressed it against the sleeping woman's throat. 

And then she waited. 

Angie waited for that gut instinct, that had pulled her through every crap situation in her life, to tell her what to do. But it stayed stubbornly silent. 

With a growl of frustration, Angie moved back leaving Peggy's throat unmarked. Slipping the knife back into her dress, she retreated from the room like a shadow running from the sun. 

She would wait until she was positive. 

Stealing back into her own room filled with new-old things, Angie stopped in front of the mirror at her vanity, caught by the sight of her reflection. Slowly she sat down on the stool as if in a trance and stared into her own eyes. 

They looked like hollow skull eyes to her. There was nothing there but the reflection of what people wanted her to be. She was the perfect agent, exactly what they had made her to be all those years ago. 

With a muffled cry Angie slammed her fist into the glass.


	3. Chapter 2: Dreams

**_Ch.2_**

 ** _-Dreams-  
_**

* * *

 _White halls, white rooms, white ceilings._

Angie flew through the maze, her bare feet making no sound, her heart pounding in her chest.

 _White halls, white rooms, white ceilings._

She couldn't find a way out. She kept running.

 _White halls, white rooms, white ceilings._

Angie rounded a corner then froze, her feet stumbling on the tile. There was a little girl standing in the hallway watching her silently. The girl's dress was white.

"Do you know the way out?" She called desperately, moving towards the girl.

The child did not respond. Did not move. Did not blink. Angie stopped, suddenly realizing why the girl looked so familiar.

"Traitor." Her younger self whispered holding up a glock and firing.

* * *

Angie sat bolt upright in bed, her breath coming in little gasps. Sweat plastered her hair to her scalp, her fingers were shaking. Just a dream, she told herself, just a stupid dream. Wiping the hair from her eyes, Angie rolled out of bed.

She felt on edge, like her skin was crawling. It was idiotic to go to pieces over a nightmare, what kind of Agent was she? The rest of her graduating class would call her weak if they could see her now.

It felt like there was something wrong with her. Something that was eating away at her core, something which had been for a long time now.

Moving across the room she pushed back her thin curtains to reveal the city lights glowing outside. The sun was only just beginning to rise beyond the tops of the most distant buildings, casting an odd glow over the horizon.

Peggy was surely still asleep on the other side of the floral papered wall, and probably exactly where she had left her. Part of her wanted to check, which was a stupid compulsion. If she woke Peggy up the woman would never trust her again, and Angie couldn't afford that.

 _Ding._

Angie spun around at the sound of a chime ringing from her chest-of-drawers, her heart constricted painfully. She knew exactly what that sound meant.

Rushing back across the bedroom, she yanked open the dresser and roughly shoved aside a pile of socks. Underneath, beside the shattered remains of her mirror, was a small, cylindrical device in copper hued metal. Along its front face was a digital display unlike anything else that existed in this decade - or the next several to come. Angie assumed it was a stolen Fitz-Simmon's design. Pulling it out, she pressed a button on the side letting it scan her DNA signature. Suddenly backlit, green text began scrolling across the screen.

 _'A.M. WHY IS MISSION UNCOMPLETED? KILL CARTER. FURTHER DELAY WILL RESULT IN REASSIGNMENT.'_

The blood in her body seemed to drain all the way to her feet. Angie watched the message roll past twice more before the screen went black again.

Reassignment? They were daring to threaten **_her_** with reassignment? Angie knew exactly what that word meant in the Hydra dictionary, and it didn't involve transferring to a new office. Best case scenario was they killed you, worst case: they wiped your brain and reprogrammed it.

There was no way in hell that was happening to her.

Unless the unflappable Edwin Jarvis were to suddenly develop a knack for spy craft, Angie doubted there really was anyone to take Peggy's place in creating S.H.I.E.L.D. The woman was an island unto herself, isolated from the rest of her collogues. She watched this never ending uphill struggle from the shadows of street corners and through shop windows.

Peggy had just left a meeting with Jarvis at the L&L Automat. Angie's quick tutorial of 40's culture had failed to mention the existence of the bizarre, pseudo-cafeteria automats, which apparently had been around since the 20's. The first time she walked into one Angie had no idea how to get the food out of the little glass windows.

Agent Carter marched down the block in her usual authoritative manner - the woman didn't even drink coffee with a strong sense of purpose. Angie trailed behind her pretending to be window shopping, her carefully curled hair and cotton floral-print dress making her blend in like any other city girl. She was surprised when Peggy stopped about half a block ahead. For a terrible second she was sure she'd been spotted, and then Angie noticed what the other woman was looking at. The marquee of a movie theater.

There was something almost wistful about Peggy's expression, as if the idea of going to the show was some kind of far off dream. Angie frowned. It bothered her, she realized at that moment, Peggy's isolation from the world.

How backwards was that? Here she was planning her assassination, and Angie was worried that Peggy was lonely? Maybe those science idiots really had fried her brain…

She called out to Peggy anyway, slipping into the personality that felt more like her own than any she'd had before.

* * *

"Peggy!" Called an excited voice making her spin around. Her hand automatically moved toward her hip where her sidearm was concealed. She stopped herself quickly once she saw who it was rushing up to her.

Angie bounded up the sidewalk, all smiles and rosy cheeks. She was Peggy's opposite every way. Where she was crisp lines and hard edges, Angie was bright coloreds and soft curves.

"Angie?"

"I thought that was you!" The girl exclaimed, reaching her side. "How's that for luck!"

"Where were you headed?" Peggy cautioned, she was still a bit taken aback by the other girl's appearance.

Angie grinned ironically. "Macy's, where I could pretend to be affluent and able to actually afford things." She chuckled self deprecatingly.

Peggy's ruby lips turned up at the corners. "I think that's what most people do there." She observed.

"Good point. I don't think rich folks even shop, do they? They just make other people do it for them. Now ** _that_** would be a job."

Peggy nodded absently, struck with the sudden vision of Howard lost in a department store and having to be rescued by Mr. Jarvis. "No thanks, I dislike shopping enough for just myself."

"Oh come off it, English! You're beautiful; shopping's got to be a cinch when you look good in everything!"

Peggy colored slightly at the complement.

Angie continued to prattle on seemingly oblivious to her reaction. "Oh. We're you goin' to the show?" She glanced at the building behind Peggy with interest.

"Yes." She latched onto the easy alibi. "I've heard it's good."

She had nowhere to be for several hours and Peggy realized the simple escape of the cinema sounded wonderful. Plus _The Captain America Adventure Hour_ was going to begin soon and that always made her want to break things.

" _It's A Wonderful Life_? Oh yeah, I've heard it's pretty good too." Angie said.

"If you're free you could join me." Peggy offered before she could stop herself. There was something about Angie which pulled her in. Something about her smile, the intelligent spark in her eyes, her sardonic wit.

"Say, I'd love to!" Angie touched her arm, leaning in, and Peggy found herself a little breathless.

They got in line for tickets, standing closer together under the lighted marquee than was strictly necessary, and getting a whiff of buttered popcorn each time the door opened. A tangled web of guilt and despair began to claw at her breast. This was exactly the type of quiet evening she had envisioned with Steve once the war ended.

What reason did she have to feel guilty? Her Captain was gone and she was allowed to be happy, to have a night out with a friend, wasn't she? Yet it was becoming increasingly obvious to Peggy that Angie held the ability to make her heart stutter in a way no 'friend' should.

Peggy kept her expression light, concealing her emotions like she always did. Instead she smiled at Angie and spoke of nothing in particular.

Movement in the corner of her eye caused Peggy to glance over her shoulder. She spotted two dark figures stepping out of the shadow of the drugstore awing down the street. As the ticket booth attendant handed Peggy her change, she swiftly turned her attention back to Angie pretending not to have noticed the men.

She followed Angie inside the theater well aware that the two men had gotten into the ticket line behind them. Peggy could feel their eyes on the back of her neck.


	4. Chapter 3: Hostage

I'm alive! My involuntary hiatus from writing is over hooray!

Hopefully everyone hasn't totally forgotten about this story... :/

* * *

 ** _Ch. 3_**

 ** _-Hostage-_**

 _Crash!_

Peggy sat bolt upright in bed, jarring to sudden wakefulness at the muffled sounds bleeding through her thin walls. Her mind was still trying to catch up with her body's instincts as she listened intently for any other noise.

A muffled shout came from Angie's room and the thud of a piece of furniture being knocked over.

She was out of bed in an instant, throwing the blankets aside haphazardly and running barefoot towards the door. Peggy dashed into the dim hallway, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She knew the sounds of a struggle when she heard them. Someone was in Angie's room! Dear god if they hurt her…

"What's going on?" Sarah stuck her head cautiously out her door looking worried as Peggy burst into the hall.

Peggy ignored the other girl, desperately trying to turn the knob of Angie's door. It was locked. "Angie! Angie can you hear me?" She yelled.

Peggy stepped back, gathering up the silk fabric of her night dress so she could kick in the door. As her foot connected solidly with the wood there were several surprised gasps behind her.

The muscle in her leg forced the lock to pop, sending the door slamming inwards. The knob left a dent in the flora wallpaper as it bounced off the wall with a great shudder.

"Angie?"

Peggy ran inside to find the room turned over. The window was open, the sheets rumbled, end tables and chairs knocked to the ground. And on the pale carpet, clearly visible by the bright moonlight streaming in the window, was a splatter of fresh crimson blood.

Her heart plummeted to the floor. Something violently close to hysteria was clawing its way up her throat.

"What is the meaning of this?" Came Mrs. Fry's shrill voice, bursting through the crowd of confused girls. She shoved her way into the room to stand beside Peggy, gaze landing on the stained carpet. "Oh dear lord." Mrs. Fry collapsed backwards in a dead faint at the sight of the blood.

Peggy did not even notice, her eyes were on the open window knowing that's where they had taken Angie. The blood on the floor was not nearly enough to be life threatening, but it was enough to fill Peggy with pure fury.

She knew this was about her. What else could it be? Her mind flashed to the two men following her earlier that evening. Had they gotten the wrong room and taken Angie by accident or was this because they saw Angie with her?

Peggy let out a string of curses that would have made a sailor blush, and certainly shocked the gaggle of scared women behind her. Come hell or high water she was getting Angie back. No way was Peggy going to lose anyone else, not again.

* * *

She opened her eyes to a headache so severe it sent a powerful wave of nausea surging through her body. Angie let out a low pitiful groan, automatically trying to roll in on herself. What the fuck happened? Her brain pulsed with throbbing pain unable to compute anything other than general confusion.

Angie concentrated on opening her eyes one lid at a time until she was able to take stock of her current surroundings. She didn't open them very wide however, it was always a tactical advantage to seemingly remain unconscious. Assuming no one had noticed her movements yet.

She was lying on her side on a slated wooden floor in a small dimly lit room. A thin layer of grime and dust coated the surface before her eyes. Angie could see a wooden table and chairs in the far corner and a stone fireplace at the opposite wall. Two dark, yet faded leather chairs rested in front of the hearth. There were two men in them.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Even in profile Angie could easily see they were the same two men who had been following Peggy earlier. Was this the infamous Leviathan or some other organization the SSR had pissed off recently? She really did not want to stick around long enough to find out.

Angie tried to move her arms without attracting attention. Her elbows were bent uncomfortably with her wrists pressed against her lower back. What felt like nylon cord - by the way it was rubbing her skin raw - prevented her from moving more than an inch in any direction. Shifting her legs, Angie found her ankles to be in the same predicament.

Oh, she was going to kill those assholes. They must have drugged her while she slept, there was no other way they could have taken her alive. Angie dimly recalled a stumbling fight in her room and a blow to the head before losing consciousness. This whole assignment was turning out to be one giant career embarrassment.

Angie glared at a stuffed owl whose glass eyes watched her from a shelf on the wall. This place had to be a hunting lodge or fishing cabin of some kind based on the rustic and overly manly décor. She would never understand the male impulse to kill furry creatures and tack their heads to the wall. Like do you really need to prove you're more evolved than a deer? Plus it just looked creepy.

"We know you are awake." Said one of the men in a horribly robotic voice without bothering to look in her direction.

Angie's skin crawled at the sound, yet she made no visible reaction, waiting to see what they were going to do. Her muscles tensed readying herself for whatever was about to happen.

"What is your relationship to Agent Carter?" The other man intoned in the same robotic voice. He swiveled slowly in his seat to face her.

His eyes were as dead as the eyes of the animals on the walls. Dark, cold tunnels. If her life had taught her anything it was to fear eyes like that. Nothing like sociopathy to make a girl's blood run cold.

"Agent?" Angie asked in her best clueless little country girl impression. She widened her blue eyes looking meek and terrified. The last thing she wanted was them to think she was anything other than the sweet, hopeful actress who knew nothing of violence.

The man raised a dark eyebrow sardonically. "What is your relationship with Miss Carter?"

Angie forced herself not to hiss at him. "She's my friend."

Holy hell, did these idiots think she was part of Peggy's team? She might just die of the irony. Though she might just die anyway…

"Miss Carter has something we want. She will retrieve it for us in exchange for your safety."

A ransom? Angie really was going to die of the irony. She sat up as best she could in the restraints and glared at the men staring at her impassively. "And what makes you think she'll do that for me?"

"Faith, Miss Martinelli."

The shorter man raised a small revolver-like weapon from his lap and fired. Angie rolled to the left on instinct, dodging the dart which sank into the wall behind her. But she was not fast enough to miss the second one.

Angie cried out in anger as the small needle pierced the flesh of her leg. "Mother fu-" She hissed as she slipped back into blissful oblivion.

* * *

The police were everywhere. They had the terrified girls of Griffith Hotel corralled in the lobby and were interviewing them one by one. Peggy was spared this by flashing her not-so-accurate badge at the detective in charge. Today she was a proud member of the NYPD, one of their few female officers.

Peggy riffled through Angie's room searching for any clue, any hint as to where she had been taken or who had taken her. Her fury and panic had been swallowed down by the military training which taught her to stay calm in the face of any disaster. Though that did not prevent the back of her mind from running through every horrifying situation imaginable. Peggy had to shove visions of Angie dead in an ally and worse from her brain or her hands would not stop shaking.

"Jesus Christ!" Peggy hissed yanking her hand back from the dresser drawer she was inspecting.

Something sharp had sliced open the tip of her index finger. Cautiously she moved aside a pile of stockings to reveal several large shards of broken mirror. What in the world? Bits of red stained the edges of a few pieces, blood old and dried. It looked as if someone had smashed the mirror with their own flesh or had been thrown into it.

Carefully she began pulling out the pieces and setting them on top the dresser. If you were searching for a clue then anything out of place was worth investigating - and this was certainly out of place. Peggy's finger paused on the edge of the drawer liner. There was a small crack between the bottom and the sides. Her eyes scanned the outside noting there was at least three inches depth unaccounted for.

It was a false bottom.

After a minute, she was able to pop it open and reveal the single device hidden inside. It was some kind of advanced technology, and Peggy had seen plenty of advanced technology in her day, but this was something different. It looked like some prop Hollywood would cook up for one of their science fiction movies.

As Peggy turned it over in her hands dread filled the marrow in her bones. Why would Angie have this? _How_ could she have this? A bead of blood from her cut finger tip smeared onto its surface. Suddenly a screen flickered to life.

UNAUTHORIZED

The words were emblazoned across the red insignia of Hydra.


End file.
